Patrol was going as good as it typically did—better than, even.
Peter felt fine after taking a day and a half to recover after the Yakuza fight. Peachy. Aside from the lightning bolts of pain that occasionally shot through his shoulder blade every now and then.
Landing lightly on the brick edge of an apartment complex roof, Peter sucked in a deep breath and surveyed the surrounding area. "Another New York night," he said to himself and plopped down heavily, happily swinging his feet off the edge.
Peter checked his web levels and nodded, content. There was enough to get him through the whole night as long as he paced himself. And maybe walked halfway home.
A distant crash snapped him out of it, and almost instantly he was swinging towards the sound. Against his better judgement, Peter paused to do a flip for a kid who waved at him excitedly as he passed. The happy laugh that followed made it worth it, though.
Peter focused on where the crash came from, his ears leading him to a local bank with its front window busted out. Glass littered the sidewalk in front of it, even straying out into the street.
Quietly, he landed on the canopy above the busted window. He could hear a couple people moving around inside, accompanied by someone hissing, "In and out, come on. Like we said, man."
Peter really hoped the cops were already on their way. Maybe after the last bank robbery he was involved with, the rest of the business owners installed a silent alarm or two. Maybe he should invest in a police scanner.
Sighing slightly, Peter muttered to himself, "Let's do this."
Peter swung through the broken front window just to be confronted by a whole team of Avengers, sans Iron Man and Black Widow. The guy closest to him (Thor mask. Nice.) dropped his crowbar in shock.
"If this is some kind of protest against modern day capitalism, I'm sure the real Thor would down if it was, you know, legal," he said casually, and webbed the crowbar to the ground.
He followed that up by sticking Thor's feet down right there next to it and a swift punch to jaw. Hawkeye, who was crouched in front of the vault door at the back of the building, dropped the handsaw he was holding and bolted. Peter was quick to web the front door shut, making it so the only exit was at his back.
Captain America was standing at the tellers counter and quickly got someone's attention that was crouched on the other side, invisible to him at the moment. He watched as Iron Man rose from behind the counter, and that's when he got mad. The two rushed at him, and Peter caught sight of the Hulk trying to slip around him from his peripheral.
Peter made good work of Captain Murica, taking him out fast with an impact web.
But he let Iron Man get as close as he wanted. When he was about two feet away, he wound up and delivered a hard punch to the nose. The cartilage let out a large crunch and the man crumpled to the floor at Peter's feet.
"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that," he muttered to the limp body.
He walked over towards Hulk like it was another day in the park. Hulk had other thoughts, and tried to make a break for the window now that Peter wasn't blocking it.
"And what is it with the Avengers masks? It's a little outdated, don't you think? A little 2012? What happened to robbers being-" Peter attached a web to his pant leg and yanked, sending Hulk sprawling to the ground, "ski mask, black turtleneck wearing goons?"
No answer. All he got in response was the distant wailing of police sirens.
"Cool."
Peter jumped out the window and swung off. A burrito vendor waved him down a few blocks later, and Peter gratefully accepted the free meal. It's, what, 11 o'clock? The last time he ate was at six, so yeah. He was a little hungry. Rolling his mask up to his nose, Peter stuck the tinfoil wrapped stick of deliciousness in his mouth and swung off to find a quiet place to eat.
He followed the 7 line for a bit until a flash of red and black night his eye. He swerved away and zipped to where the flash was in time to catch a glimpse of Deadpool. A burrito-muffled holler and a wave served as an attempted greeting, but Wade was too focused on whatever he was doing to notice. Peter debated swinging after him to say hi until he noticed how rampage-y he seemed, and promptly decided it was probably not the best time.
Now that Peter was involved with the other local vigilantes, he seemed to see them a lot more. Double D especially. Peter didn't know if he was making trips to Queens to check on him twice a week, or if whatever he was following happened to end up in his borough. Mr. Castle was a rarity, but ever since that first night, he made some sort of effort to say hi to Peter when he saw him. Wade seemed to stay pretty underground, only making himself known when he's on a case or just in the mood to fuck with the police. He wondered briefly which it was this time then decided he didn't want to know.
With the next web he used came a jarring pain in his shoulder, shooting all the way down to his knees. He cried out and his hand slipped off the strand, and he began plummeting towards the ground.
He was in the process of panicking, trying to figure out what was up and what was down, when he noticed a small, silver cylinder barreling downwards. "My burrito!"
Peter shot a web after it, using his bad arm and saving his fully functioning limb for the web he used to save himself. The stop was no less painful than what caused him to fall in the first place. He narrowly avoided smashing through the windows of the office building he'd latched onto by throwing himself to the side.
He let go of the web and huddled together on the side of the building, giving a second to calm down and stop shaking. Peter reeled the burrito up like a fish, scowling viciously at it. "I really hope you're worth it."
Peter huffed and decided not to waste any more webs than he had to. He marched up the side of the building, getting some surprised looks from the people inside working late.
After he plopped down on the roof, Peter peeled away the web-covered foiling covering his meal and balled it up, eternally thankful nothing got on the burrito itself. His phone chirped, and Peter pulled it out of the makeshift holster on his belt as he dug into the burrito.
[from: may - 11:31 p.m.]
Hey sweetheart, I just got word and hopefully I'll be home tomorrow! I miss you so much (^-^)
[to: may - 11:31 p.m.]
awwwe, miss you too may. text me when you land n i'll order some thai for us!
[from: may - 11:32 p.m.]
See you soon Pete ❤️
Peter smiled and set the phone down, finishing his burrito and wiping his hands on the outside of the wrapper. With a sigh, he laid down and crossed his hands over his chest. It was pointless to try and see the stars, but he found comfort in the noise of cars and the cloudy sky.
Another notification lit up his phone. Peter lifted his phone up and was surprised to see a message from Matt.
[from: DD - 11:35 p.m.]
Meet me at Josie's bar in twenty. No questions.
Peter sighed. So much for enjoying the peace.
He was there in twenty-one.
He landed on the opposite side of the street, seeing Matt in his Daredevil suit leaning against the outside of the building. There was a woman to the left of him bent over, vomiting into a potted bush.
"You know, I appreciate the gesture," he said loudly, staying on his side of the street, "but you're off about five years."
"Ha ha," Matt said sarcastically, and waved him over. "If I can stand the smell, so can you. Get over here."
He bounded across the street as the woman stood up, whiskey bottle hanging loosely from her left hand, only to stop dead in his tracks when he got a good look at her face.
"Thanks for holding my hair back, Murdock," said Jessica Jones, glaring at his friend. "Appreciate it."
Matt just shrugged.
She finally took notice of Peter, but if she was surprised to see Spider-Man, she didn't show it. "Hey," Jessica said, swinging the whiskey bottle in greeting.
"H-Hi," he squeaked.
Jessica stumbled over to where Matt was leaned against the way, only looking like she was gonna fall over twice. Matt extended a hand, but Jessica was quick to bat it away.
"Calm down, Murdock. I can still walk in a straight line."
"Um, what-what did you want me to come down here for?" Peter asked shakily, his voice still too high to be considered normal. He didn't take his eyes off Jessica, who was now taking a seat on the stairs at the entrance of the bar.
Matt crossed his arms, frowning at him. Peter now regretted asking. "I want to know what you think you're doing out and about like this," he punctuated his words with little flicks of his hands, "after your situation after the Yakuza fight."
Peter shrugged, flushing slightly. "I'm fine now."
Matt was silent, and the frown only grew deeper. He fidgeted slightly under the glare, picking at his fingertips.
"Mostly," he amended after a moment. "I'm mostly fine. But you can't pretend like you haven't gone out with worse injuries."
The scowl loosened slightly, dissolving completely when Jessica elbowed him in the thigh.
"Foggy's rubbing off you," she snorted and drank out of the open bottle. "What he means to say, buddy, is that we need some help. We're short one dude dressed in bright red spandex, so you're the next best thing."
Peter brightened, choosing to take that as a compliment. "Really?"
Matt huffed, clearly not happy with the arrangement. "You were supposed to be out, so I called Donnie Darko."
Peter choked. "Oh my God. I just heard you say that. I'm a witness. I'm a witness now."
Matt flat out ignored him. "Fortunately for you, he got dragged into some shit his friend started, so he's unavailable."
Ah. Explains what he saw Wade doing earlier that night. Maybe.
Peter cleared his throat, nervously looking from Matt to Jessica then back to Matt. "Just to clarify, uh, was Wade Donnie Darko in that metaphor? Because I know he's a little-"
"Crazy?" Matt deadpanned.
"Batshit fucking insane?" Jessica suggested.
"-eccentric," he continued, "but you know a lot of people, so I don't wanna… assume, or anything."
"Assume," Matt said flatly.
Jessica took another drink from the bottle, belching loudly before she started speaking again. "Anyways. Castle contacted me for this little expedition of his, so I don't know how he's gonna react to you two showing up." She glared at Matt halfheartedly. "Thanks for ridding me of my drinking buddy Matthew."
He looked at her, offended. "I thought I was your drinking buddy," he muttered, the definition of you just kicked my puppy.
What Jessica said finally sank in, and Peter was suddenly reminded of the violent rivalry between Daredevil and the Punisher. "You didn't tell him you— we —were coming?" he asked, now thoroughly stressed.
Matt shrugged, but otherwise stayed silent. That was the only answer he needed.
Peter paled. "Mr. Castle is gonna kill you."
"He's not going to kill me ."
"Fifty bucks says he shoots you on sight, Murdock," Jessica piped up, smirking at Matt.
Matt stood up, scowling heavily. Even though Peter couldn't see the top half of his face, he figured he was glaring back at her. "He's not going to shoot me."
"He's gonna kill you," Peter repeated. "He's gonna kill me."
"He's not gonna kill you, kid. For Christ's sake, get a grip," Matt scoffed, smacking Peter lightly on the shoulder. "That ugly bitch needs all the help he can get and he knows it."
Jessica laughed loudly and stood up, swaying. "That why you called him for help when you were out busting ninjas' asses?" She pointed an accusing finger at Matt and squinted. "You? Are so screwed. So screwed."
Something finally clicked in Peter's head, a puzzle piece finding its slot. "Wait a second." His hands came up, palms pointed outwards. "Your name's Matt Murdock? Your full name?"
He kicked Jessica in the leg, clearly not happy with his sudden revelation. Anger colored her features and she just shrugged in response, clearly not very apologetic.
Matt sighed, shoulders slumping. "Yep. Taking no more questions."
Peter's eyes widened at his tone. "That's fine, I wasn't gonna as-"
"What the fuck do you think you're doing here," a gravelly voice interupted. Peter whipped around to see Frank Castle standing in the shadows.
Matt's entire demeanor flipped like someone hit a light switch. His body tensed up as if he was dropped in the middle of an active warzone. "Saving your dirty ass from getting blown across the fucking harbour, Castle. Maybe you should be thankful I decided to prevent you from throwing your worthless life away."
"Oh, so returning the favor?" Mr. Castle shoved Double D.
He was quick to return the gesture, pushing him so hard he stumbled back a few steps. "Listen here, moronic bastard, you know damn well why I called you there and it has nothing to do with needing to be 'saved,'" he spat.
Frank roared and attacked Matt, almost instantly wrestling him into a chokehold. He slammed him to the ground, and Peter winced as he heard all the breath leave Matt's body in a rush. He was quick to recover, and before Mr. Castle got too much of an upper hand, Matt swiped his feet out from under him, sprawling him on the dirty ground. He tackled him, pressing a knee into his chest and insulting him viciously.
"So they're normally like this? Just all the time?" Peter whispered off to Jessica, who was watching the exchange with a smile on her face.
"Yes," she whispered back.
Mr. Castle growled and flipped the two over so it was him on top and wound up to punch him in the face. Before the hit landed, Matt kicked him off, printing a muddy footprint on the center of Mr. Castle's shirt.
"Boys!" Jessica interrupted before they seriously hurt each other, "How about, Castle, instead of beating his head in, you give these two fools the brief?"
"You don't know it either," he huffed, shooting one last murderous glare at Matt before attempting to brush the dirt off his shirt. When he realized it wasn't coming off, he sighed and walked to where Jessica was sitting, finishing off the whiskey bottle.
"But am I a fool?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
He pretended like she never spoke. "Thanks, Jess, thanks so fuckin' much for dragging the Dickhead and the kid into this-"
Peter stepped forward. "I'm- my name's Peter, by the way." He waved awkwardly. "Hi guys."
Frank stared at him, unimpressed. Jessica high-fived the hand.
"Wade ain't coming," Jessica explained, validating Peter's presence there.
Mr. Castle's face twisted unpleasantly. "That's a good thing. I'on't trust him. Especially after Fisk contacted him and put a hit out on the kid here-"
Peter was quick to jump in, not wanting Mr. Castle to hold anything against Wade. "No no no, we talked things out, we're good now."
Scuffling came from behind Frank, and Matt bumped his shoulder hard as he passed. Matt took his spot between Peter and Jessica, rubbing his throat petulantly. "What is ' this,'" he hissed.
Frank rolled his eyes so hard the whites showed. "An odd shipment came into Harlem, I got Cage to check it out."
"Why isn't Cage taking this then?" Matt asked
"Will everyone stop interrupting me?!" he snapped. "He won't take this because he's busy. Same way your psychotic friend's busy."
"Wade looped Cage into his shit?" Jessica asked, surprised.
"YES!" Frank roared.
There was an awkward silence between the four of them. Clatter from the bar and the cars zooming past on the street to Peter's back were the only sounds aside from Mr. Castle's heavy breathing. He was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
A tense minute passed before Frank bit out, "Turns out Fisk smuggled a bunch of bombs to New York."
"Bombs?" Peter squeaked, forgetting the whole 'not speaking' thing taking place at the current moment. Thankfully, Frank just nodded grimly. "Oh. Okay."
Not a normal patrol anymore. Definitely, one hundred percent, not normal.
"Then we better get going," Jessica said jovially and popped up off the ground, almost immediately stumbling into Matt's side. "I'll be catching a cab. Text me where I'm meeting y'all."
Matt turned towards her, grasping her arm tightly. "And I'll be going with you," he said firmly, leaving no room for discussion. Peter didn't know if that was because he was worried for her wellbeing (doubtful, Jessica seemed like she could handle herself) or because he couldn't stomach another second with Mr. Castle. Matt escorted her to the curb and attempted to wave down a cabbie.
"Well then, Mr. Castle," Peter beamed, "guess it's just us."
"Yeah kid. Guess it is." He sighed and cracked his neck. "Think you can keep up on those webs of yours?"
"Is that a bet?" he shot back, smiling even wider.
Frank huffed a small laugh and walked back into the alley he arrived from. Peter did the same in time to see him pull a dark tarp off a motorcycle parked against Josie's. His eyebrows almost shot off his face. He didn't hear him pull up.
Before he could voice his surprise, Frank was already flying down the alley, taking the sharp left turn onto the main street. Peter laughed loudly before jumping into the air and swinging after him.
Peter chased him down the streets, flying through the air at sixty miles an hour to keep pace with the motorcycle. Frank was taking shortcut after shortcut, unsurprisingly staying off the more well-travelled streets in favor of alleyways. The buildings here were significantly lower than he was used to, and Peter had to let go of his webs and run across the rooftops instead.
In five minutes, Mr. Castle was turning his engine off and parking his motorcycle in a small, rundown building a couple hundred feet from the coast. Peter landed lightly on the roof of said building, perching on the edge and waiting for everyone else to arrive.
Mr. Castle emerged with a large black duffle bag and an intimidating tac vest. He knelt on the roughed up concrete and tore the bag open, removing a large gun and gently placing it on the ground beside him. From his perspective, Peter could see a bunch of assorted parts still in the duffle that he was rifling through.
Peter dropped down from his perch and sat cross legged in front of Mr. Castle. He opened his mouth, a question sitting heavily on his tongue, but chickened out and closed it sharply. Frank looked up at the muffled clomp his mouth made, gaze sharpening.
"Wanna say something, kid?"
Peter opened his mouth again, brain stalling slightly. "Um."
Mr. Castle raised an eyebrow.
"Can I ask you a favor?" Peter asked, his voice noticeably higher than normal.
Frank nodded and looked back down at his bag, setting aside two different cylinders.
Peter traced the web patterns on his gloves as he spoke. "I know you don't really like Double D that much, but killing people isn't really in my MO either. So, uh, maybe if you could. Not. Please," he fumbled out.
Frank's hands stilled during his request, and Peter met his gaze timidly. He didn't say anything in response, and Peter kept talking to fill the quiet.
"Just for tonight at least. I mean, preferably never, but, uh, I know that- well, people ask me all the time to stop being Spider-Man and I know that I can never do that, so it's probably really hard to stop being the Punisher. Or doing some of the things that the Punisher does, I mean. So-"
"Peter."
"Pete. You can call me Pete. Everyone else does-"
"Pete."
He looked up sharply, blushing slightly.
"I won't kill anyone." There was no waver in his voice. Peter nodded, and rubbed his hands on his legs.
Not even a minute later, a cab was pulling over on the curb, depositing a not sober Jessica Jones and a very unamused Matt Murdock into the alley. Jessica paid the driver and the pair wobbled over to where Peter was sitting with Frank.
"Can we get this show on the road or what," Jessica intoned, kicking the ground next to Peter. "My tab's still open at Josie's."
Peter laughed and sprang to his feet, bumping Matt's shoulder in greeting. Frank picked himself off the ground, scooping his freshly refurbished rifle up with him.
Matt passed out familiar, small, black shapes out. Comms, he realized.
"Everyone try to keep it in this time," he said and shot Peter a dirty look. "Sorry Jess, but you get Wade's hand-me-down."
She made a face but put it in anyways. Peter didn't even try to hide his rueful smile as he rolled his mask up and copied her.
"Right," Frank said, popping his neck. "I'm gonna set up shop on a roof near the dock. Take out anyone who tries to send out a signal or run. Jess, you're with Murdock. You know the drill. Incapacitate everyone you see. Peter, you go scope things out. Find out where they're keeping the bombs, where they plan on taking them, any information that seems useful."
Peter nodded and glanced at Double D and Jessica. "I'll go ahead and get a look at the place while you two find a way in."
Peter attached two webs to the closest roof ledge and pulled himself towards it, launching himself off the corner as soon as his feet touched it. Peter closed the distance to the shoreline quickly, coming to a stop on a lamp post illuminating the dock Mr. Castle was talking about. From first glance, it looked like an ordinary dock. He sprang closer, jumping off the roofs of metal shipping containers till he was crouched on the light pole closest to the small, salt-stained warf building.
"I don't… I don't see anyone here," Peter muttered quietly. "That can't be right, can it?"
"Just keep looking, kid," Frank answered.
A splash of light caught his attention, and Peter's gaze snapped down to the door of the building just below him. The door that no one was standing near. His eyes narrowed.
How the hell was this thing opening?
All of a sudden, a man materialized in the door frame, on his way inside the building. Peter reeled back, confusion hitting him like a load of bricks.
"What the-"
Peter jumped from the light post to a stack of shipping containers opposite of the warf building so he could get a better look at the door. It opened again just a minute later, a new man emerging. He walked a couple feet before hitting some sort of button on his wrist and disappearing.
"Holy shit," he whispered.
"What is it, Pete?" Matt spoke.
"They have these- cloaking devices. How the hell did Fisk get a hand on these?" He climbed over the shipping containers so he could get a better look at the inside of the building. It was empty. "More than that, how did he get so many he could just hand them out to his men willy-nilly?"
"Okay, kid. Everyone's in position. I'm attaching my thermal scope right now then we can start things for real."
Peter nodded. "I'm gonna look for the bombs. Maybe they didn't cloak those yet."
He stayed high as he surveyed the dock. The fact that they could see him but he couldn't see them was dangerous, even with his spider sense to help him. Frank gave the go ahead to Matt and Jessica, and Peter could hear the familiar sounds of a fight break out underneath him. Frank was a steady voice in his ear guiding the pair to their targets. The ones that didn't attack them first, that was.
Past the warf building was a makeshift road lined by open shipping containers with six moving trucks lined up and ready to go. A loading bay of sorts. Peter landed on the railing of the waterline, spidey sense making itself known.
On instinct, he threw himself to the side and shot a web at the empty air in front of him. Surprisingly enough, it made contact and pinned an invisible body to the ground. "Okay. That was pretty cool."
He sprinted past the trucks, webbing people to the gravel as instinct demanded, till he found one that was open.
A sharp gasp escaped him as he saw the sheer amount of explosives contained inside the truck. He blanched completely, feeling all the blood rush to his feet. If this was what was inside a single one…
Peter tore to the previous truck, blindly throwing a punch that connected to an invisible jaw. He ripped the closed door off its hinges, and dread sank into his chest when he was confronted with the same contents as the first one.
"Guys." It came out as a muffled whisper. Peter swallowed harshly and tried again. "Guys. I- I found the bombs. It's a shit ton of bombs. Like, half-of-Manhattan shit ton. This is so not good."
Jessica swore violently. "Hold on kid. We're almost done. Just don't let them go."
As soon as she said that, three of the six trucks turned invisible before his eyes. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck."
Peter raced to one of the still-visible trucks and fought like his life depended on it, swinging everywhere his spidey sense even suggested. But despite his best efforts, this truck and the one behind it disappeared. The only one that he could still see was at the very back of the line, almost flush with the ocean.
He sprinted towards it, but the trucks' engines roaring back to life caught him off guard, freezing him in his tracks. The hesitation cost him, and the last vehicle had vanished by the time he looked back.
"No," he whispered.
He jolted back into motion and took an educated guess as to where the truck was. Satisfaction burned through him as his webs smacked into the side of the vehicle. The truck's engine revved and tried to move forwards, but Peter hauled it backwards The engine stalled, and he took the opportunity to attach the other end of the web to the ground.
He smiled grimly and ran to the next truck, feeling much better now that he had a plan.
Guesstimating, Peter shot another web at the next truck.
Just to have his web shooter click dully.
Peter stared down at his wrist, horrified. Nothing's coming out. Nothing-
His spidey sense blared, and he turned around just in time to see a wooden plank come barrelling towards his face.
He blinked back awake a few seconds later to find himself face first on the ground, disoriented and confused. Everything snapped back to him as soon as he got a look at his surroundings, and he leaped back to his feet to find-
A loading bay void of any trucks. Even the one he stopped had vanished, leaving a slack line of webbing in its place
"No. No no no…" Peter stumbled forward like he was in a trance, not believing the vehicles were gone. He swiped his hands through the empty air as if he could make the trucks rematerialize by moving through where they once were. "No," he repeated softly, voice breaking.
The shouts of the fight behind him faded to a halt as he stood there in shock. Footsteps came jogging up to where he was standing motionless in the center of the pavement.
Matt's voice was tense as he called out, "Kid?"
He didn't move. Kept staring at the empty loading bay.
The shock slowly melted into anger, and Peter balled his hands up so tight he thought his fists would explode, furious at himself for letting them get away. It was his. Fault.
"Damn it," Peter slammed his fist into the side of an empty shipping container, heavily denting the thick layers of metal.
"Parker."
Peter looked up, his chest heaving angrily, and stared the two of them in the face. Matt's mouth was pressed into a tight line, and Jessica looked the way he felt. Shocked, angry, disappointed. Embarrassingly enough, he could feel tears rising to the corners of his eyes. His entire body was hot.
"Where are the trucks." Matt asked, his voice completely monotonous.
His lip trembled. Blood coated his knuckles under his gloves. "Gone. They're gone."
"Pete, what do you mean they're gone?" Frank asked, stunned.
"They're gone! I fucking ran out of webs and let them get away, that's what I mean! They're gone!"
Everyone froze completely, shocked at his outburst. He'd never allowed himself to snap like that in front of them.
"I'm sorry," he apologized hoarsely after a beat, staring down at the ground. "This is on me, guys. I'm sorry. I knew I didn't have that many webs left and I didn't fix that before."
Matt stepped forwards, and Peter braced himself for a scathing lecture. Instead, all he got was a heavy hand on his shoulder. "No Peter, it's on all of us. We all have a part in letting Fisk get away like this. We shouldn't have put you on the trucks by yourself. None of us could've stopped them alone. Not even you."
He shook his head but stayed silent. He could've stopped them if he just restocked his fucking cartriges.
Matt sighed heavily. "Come on, kid. I'm taking you back to my place. You don't wanna be by yourself right now."
"No-"
Matt held a hand up, silencing him. "I'm not leaving you alone."
Peter gnawed the inside of his cheek before nodding hesitantly. Maybe together they could find a way to fix his mistake.